Call Me Captain
by JadedSky1
Summary: The infamous island of Captain Jack Sparrow becomes the stage of wit, romance, and of course- rum! Jack/Elizabeth island scene re-write
1. Call me 'Captain'

Author's Note: I do not own any of these characters, too bad.  
  
The never-ending stretch of blue swallowed the ship whole, engulfing the tattered sails and hole-ridden wood into the maw of rich indigo sky. The clouds were scarce and thin- no match for the dominance of the Caribbean afternoon sun. Sunlight triumphed over all the world, sending hot rays onto the hunched shoulders of Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
He felt the burn of the sun and the weightless heat that dried his clothes and hair at the pace of a speeding ship. His ship. The Black Pearl was gone, just as it had been those years ago.  
  
"That's the second time I've had to watch that man sail off with my ship," Jack said, half to himself, and half to the girl who was standing next to him. Elizabeth Swan was shielding the sun from her eyes as she watched the same scene as Jack- crashing waves, rolling azure waters, and the horizon that kissed both as sky and sea met.  
  
"I'm sorry Jack," Elizabeth said, looking up at the taller pirate. Her brown eyes were watered with tears she did not allow to be unwept. The prospect of governing the forsaken spit of tropical land had the same affect on her as well as Jack. Utter depression and a twinge of fear crept into the silence that laid thick between them.  
  
Jack shook his head, his beaded strands of hair rattling against each other. "Best start getting situated then," he said, not daring to look Elizabeth in the eye in case sorrow could be seen in his. "Might be here for bit, lass." He turned about and began walking from the lapping water to the hot and sandy beach. The white sand snuck into his shoes and with a sigh he kicked them off. He removed his vest and outer shirt, in hopes they would be dry in a few. His pants would have come off to, though he felt the sight would have brought Miss Swan to a rather unhelpful state. He held the grin from his face at the thought. Now, clad in a dirty white shirt that was torn from the collar to his lower chest, he began to walk to the lining palm trees. They swayed carelessly in the salty breeze and the wind ruffled his shirt and cooled his steaming body.  
  
"What do you mean, staying her for awhile?" A frantic cry broke the silence and Jack almost jumped back in surprise as he remembered he was not alone this time. He turned a bit to fast and his hip jetted out, forcing him to switch weight from foot to foot, resulting in a turning swagger.  
  
Elizabeth flew up to him, her own shoes having fallen back at a distance.  
  
"And what do you mean by inquiring, love," he asked in slurred voice, his hands dramatically emphasizing his confusion.  
  
"I mean, let's start finding a way off," she said with a whip, her eyes flashing with confusion at Jack's own confusion.  
  
"And how to you propose we pull off such an endeavor," Jack asked, cocking his head to the side and leaning in closer.  
  
"How you did it last time, of course," she cried, throwing her arms up in the air.  
  
Jack gave her a speculative look, his gaze wandering from her right hand that was eye level to his own and down to her own eyes. He crinkled his nose in confusion.  
  
"Let me say it plainly. How did you get off last time," she said, anger empowering her every word to hold a small punch.  
  
"Oh yes, last time. Last time I thought it would be the last time. Though of course, lass, we're here talking about such last times as we are indeed her for another time. Sadly tragic that there had to be a this time."  
  
"Jack!"  
  
"Oh right," he said, hoping his stalling would have a longer result. "Well, I waited," he said, a defiant glint in his eyes.  
  
"What do you mean- waited?" Her eyes turned from angry to scared in the blink of an eye.  
  
"Follow me, lass," he said, and staggered off to where he remembered the hollow tree would be. To his dismay he did not hear footsteps behind him. He turned rather abruptly again only to find Elizabeth in the spot, with the same wide brown eyes, and the same bold stance. "Suit yourself, then, love. I'll be off to find us some treasure. Not sure I'll share though," he said, giving her a jovial wink and starting off again. After a few seconds he was pleased the hear the defeated steps of a person following, though he refused to turn around and acknowledge her. He swaggered through the trees and spotted his unusually large palm tree. Still hearing the footfalls behind him, he marked the tree with his eyes and walked off to the right. He wove through palm tree and palm tree, sometimes circling about the same tree once or twice. He kept his eyes intensely on the ground and had to mask his grin whenever he turned in a circle where she would see his face. He swung around the tree trunks, his long arms wrapping themselves around trunks and propelling him to another.  
  
He kept the 'follow the captain' game up for at least ten minutes until the Elizabeth stopped behind him and let out a defeated sigh of anger.  
  
Jack, taking his cue, turned around quickly and feigned surprise. "Sorry, love, I thought you had agreed to stay behind," he said, with a large toothy smile painting his face. If only he could have a portrait done of her at that moment. The anger, the boiling embarrassment, the utter hatred.  
  
"You'd make a lovely, pirate, 'Beth," he said, twisting the knife of hatred a bit further.  
  
"Jack," she huffed. "What in hell's fire are you doing?! This isn't a game!"  
  
He staggered a few steps forward towards her, kicking sand up as he went. She cringed as he got closer and thrust her shoulder away on the moment his hand had gently rested upon it.  
  
"You talk like one too, lass," he said lightly, bearing his gold teeth to her in a mocking manner.  
  
He gave her a wink before turning around and walking but a few paces to a thin looking patch of sand. She huffed and puffed behind him, finding her respect attacked by his careless manner in which he associated with her. Little did she know that was just Jack, and little did she know that Jack's own visage of carelessness was becoming hard to keep up.  
  
My ship is gone. I'm on this island again. Though now I have company and it's enticing prospects seem out of place, he thought as he jumped up and down on the sand, feeling a brief moment of satisfaction as the ground bounced up slightly with him. He turned and looked at her, her face twisted with pride and wonder as she came to the realization that was not ground Jack was bouncing on.  
  
"Me treasure, m'lady," he said, bowing extravagantly and opening the cache's door. "The rum runners used this island as a secret cache. By the looks of it, how'ver, seems your Commodore has put a stop to that." He examined the stock. Rum, rum, and more rum.  
  
Someone loves me, he thought wryly as he took a few dusty bottles in his hands. He spotted some bags of grain in the far corner and a few rusty swords and unloaded guns. A few chests lay in the opposite corner, though he figured they were probably just filled with worthless silks or petticoats.  
  
"I've got me treasure right here," he murmured to himself, the sudden relief a pair of bottles could issue filling him with a hopeful glee once again.  
  
"How," she stumbled over her words, "how, how did you find this?"  
  
He looked at her, pushing his lower lip out and widening his brown eyes as his grin turned to a frown. "You must forget, lass, that I'm Captain Jack-"  
  
"Sparrow," she bit out before he could finish. "Yes, I know all about Jack Sparrow!"  
  
As her cheeks flushed an angry red he felt it would not be the best to correct her error and add the "captain". He had been slapped enough for awhile.  
  
"Yes, Jack Sparrow. The famed Jack Sparrow! Though, now being stranded on an island with him, I see nothing famous about him! Oh no, here he is calling rum his treasure and lending no help in finding a way out. What did you do last time Jack? Sit on the beach while drinking rum and just wait to be rescued?" Her angry outburst took Jack by surprise and he took a tentative step backward, protecting his bottles of rum from the angry woman in case she might fly at him.  
  
"Well, you figured me out, lass," he said, a shaky smile flitting onto his face. He stroked his mustache uncertainly. "I only governed this isle for three days. I made a deal with the rum runners when they came to restock and bartered a passage out o' here. Savvy?"  
  
Her jaw dropped and the color in her face changed from rubicund to a sand-like pale. "I was only joking about that," she whispered, disbelief in her voice.  
  
"I didn't know you were a clairvoyant, either," he exclaimed, eyebrows raised, "good show, 'Beth."  
  
"Don't call me that," she whispered, still looking at him shakily.  
  
"Right, love, should I call you Eliza, then?"  
  
"Call me Miss Swan," she whispered dangerously.  
  
"Right, love, and you can just call me 'captain'," he gave her a suggesting raise of the eyebrows and handed her a bottle of rum. "Welcome to the Caribbean, Miss Swan. Courtesies of 'the captain'." He turned and sauntered back to the beach where they landed, a look of triumph coloring his face. 


	2. Half Empty or Half Full?

Night had fallen and the stars began to drop from the sky. They shot out and then disappeared, falling prey to the portal of space. He had built up a roaring fire, using some gunpowder from the cache and setting dry palm branches and sticks on fire. It had worked wonderfully. He now lay, basking in the warmth of the dancing flames, leaning back on one elbow and with one knee pointed to the dancing stars. He had always loved the night. It was better for everything: sneaking, hiding, loving, and of course, drinking. Such a beautiful night should not be wasted. He took a swig of the sour rum and lavished in the burn as it coursed down his parched throat.  
  
Elizabeth had returned awhile back, though said not a word as she helped throw branches onto the fire. The same look of mixed despair and hatred flushed her cheeks as she got closer to the fireside. Now, she sat on the opposite side of Jack, absentmindedly kicking her unopened bottle of rum around with her bare feet.  
  
The fire's glow shrank into her brown hair and allowed it to glow from the inside. Despite the day's unfortunate swim, she had still managed to comb it out with her fingers to the point of a somewhat healthy appearance. The flickering tongues danced in her unblinking brown eyes. Red swam within the despair of brown. Her skin was also set aglow by the fire, sending shadows across her face in a most mysterious way. She was beautiful, no doubt. No wonder Will fancied her as much as any golden treasure.  
  
She gave the rum a harder kick as she sighed and it slowly rolled towards Jack.  
  
"Best be careful with that, love, wouldn't want to waste any," he said suddenly. The silence of hours was broken and he took the bottle in his hands gingerly, his many rings clinking against the glass bottle. She scowled at him.  
  
"And endlessly dumping it down your throat until you pass out isn't wasting it," she asked with a more humorous air. Jack smiled and took another swig of his rum, shaking the bottle in his right hand towards her. "Only half full, love. Fancy a go?"  
  
"Funny. I see it as half empty," she said, sadness punctuating her soft tone.  
  
"See, that's where you're wrong, love. Is that why you're so sad," he asked, crinkling his nose and turning his body a bit towards her. "You're scared to drink because it's almost empty?"  
  
"It has nothing to do with drinking, Mr. Sparrow. Though I wouldn't hold you responsible for matters other than the accused."  
  
"Try me," he said, and he forced the surprise out of his face as he realized his own words. He took a long drink as a cover-up for caring.  
  
"Very well," she said, seeing the command as a challenge. "You want to know what's bothering me?"  
  
The tone in her voice made Jack take another long drink. Now, I don't think so, he thought as he eyed her speculatively over the bottle's rim.  
  
"I'm a little concerned about our situation, here. Unlike you I cannot drink rum like a dog does water-"  
  
"How do you know if you're never tried," Jack slurred.  
  
"I'm not a drunken wench if that's what you mean," she bit back.  
"Not what I mean at all," he said calmly. "Let's strike a deeeeaal, shall we mate? I stop the drinking if you start it." He bit his lip and almost cursed at himself for such a stupid trade. STUPID RUM, he swore to himself. She was too smart, however, and saw the pain on Jack's face as he wished he had never spoken those words.  
  
"Deal."  
  
"What," he asked in utter shock.  
  
"Deal. Mr. Sparrow, the rum please," she said in her well-groomed sophisticated voice. Her hand reached out to his shaking one.  
  
"Please, I was only joking. Rum's too hard a liquor for the like's of a sophisticated woman, like yourseeeeeeelf."  
  
But it was too late. She had already snatched Jack's bottle from under his nose and grabbed the unopened one, also.  
  
"I think you're plenty drunk already, Mr. Sparrow," she said. He eyed her angrily as she took his bottle and tipped it back. The sweet nectar drifted from the bottle's rim and fell into her soft mouth. She didn't even cringe as she took the long first gulp. His eyes transformed from angry to amazed. Most people, even the strongest of men, squinted in surprise as the liquid burned down their throats and into the pit of their stomachs.  
  
After only a few minutes, Jack having watched unblinkingly, Elizabeth drank from the bottle fast. The alcohol had turned her pale skin red and he could see her hands trembling as she struggled to take another sip. He took the bottle from her quickly.  
  
"Captain, I do believe we had an agreement," she exclaimed in horror, the bit of rum's mild effects now showing slightly over her face and through her wobbly voice.  
  
"I'm keeping my agreement and stopping yours," Jack replied. He rolled the bottle away so that it was out of immediate reach. Elizabeth's hand shot up towards Jack, in attempt to stop the already done action. He turned his head quickly to her and found her eyes boring down into his. She let her hand linger and Jack relished in the shots of fire that burst from her smooth skin, and no doubt, by watching her breathing quicken, she was getting shocks of her own.  
  
"I think it is wise," she conceded, withdrawing her hand slowly. "Rum is such a vile drink. Turns even the most respectable men into scoundrels."  
  
"And women too, me love," he added quickly, pleased to see the red of her cheeks heighten with embarrassment.  
  
TBC 


	3. Tell Me A Story

Chapter Three: Tell Me A Story  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters  
  
Thanks for all your replies, they mean a lot!!!!  
  
Rating Warning: I am still keeping this in the middle of PG-PG13, since I left unsaid what everyone already knows. hehe  
  
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Silence sank in between them once again, punctuated by the sound of the fire's fury, burning quickly through the dry palm branches. The wind pushed the flames and forced them to dance, pleading with the burning tongues to kiss the night time sky.  
  
"It must be awful. Being stranded on this island," Elizabeth said in a whisper.  
  
"Oh yes, absolutely horrible," he started carefully. "Though the company is definitely improved while the scenery stays the same."  
  
"Captain Sparrow, I must say I was dreadfully excited when I heard the story, should I say-false story, as to how you got off this island the first time."  
  
Jack's eyes shot back to hers and he listened intently to her long- winded story.  
  
"There he was, Captain Jack Sparrow, the youngest scourge of the sea," she flung her arms out to the ocean. "Being betrayed by the murderous leaches he called his crew. They twisted the knife of honor by mutinying against him in the dead of night. Then, the final blow, as delivered by the nefarious first-mate Barbossa, was to abandon the great Jack Sparrow on an island. There, after killing three of his crew men in the previous struggle, they sailed away, leaving him just one pistol with one bullet. This was to taunt him of course. But, Sparrow soon outsmarted the lot of them. A ship was passing by, manned by the less feared, but same pernicious crew of Captain Blackbeard. With his pistol, he climbed a tree and signaled for the ship by catching the sunlight on the silver. The greedy pirates soon were filled with ideas of old treasures and stories. They came about and docked a bit from shore, rowing the island with greed burning in their eyes. However, Captain Sparrow had already outsmarted them by swimming to their ship and climbing aboard. Taken by surprise, the remaining crew were all forced to walk the plank. Commandeering the ship solely on his own, he fled the island. But not without leaving a little treasure for the now marooned crew of Blackbeard. He took their flag down from mast and slashed his name in the flag with his sword. Then, he let the flag drift off in the water, pulled by the waves to the lonely island where the stupid pirates soon learned the fate of their grand ship. The End."  
  
Jack sat back in surprise. This was sure an improvement from the sea- turtle story he had heard a few times.  
  
"And howssssss is it that you came by that story," he slurred.  
  
"Butler in the house told me when I-," she began but stopped quickly.  
  
"When you what?"  
  
"When I almost ran away to join your crew," she said softly, looking up at him again with equally soft brown eyes. "I thought I would hitch a ride with whatever pirate I could find, just to get out for a bit."  
  
"How old were you then," he asked, bewildered.  
  
"Sixteen."  
  
"Whoa, not long ago then!"  
  
"I'm nineteen now, I don't need your babying Captain Sparrow," she shot back. "How old are you," she asked, curiosity seeping into her high voice.  
  
"Wish I knew, love. Behind this scarf, somewhat beard, tattoos, and layers of clothing I s'ppose younger than I think. I was one of the youngest captains sailing the waters at the time. Maybe that helped the crew decide to mutineer." He stroked his mustache, twisting the edges upward. "Why the sudden interest?"  
"Promise you won't laugh," she asked, leaning in towards him until her hot breath spread across his cool cheek. A nervous flair of red burned her cheeks once again.  
  
Ought to learn to control that. Gives away too much, he mused wryly.  
  
"Cross my heart and stick a dagger in me eye," he laughed.  
  
"Well, I always said I was going to be your first mate and," she paused, "your girlfriend, I suppose. I did fancy pirates from the stories." Her teeth bit at her lip and she looked quickly away, regretting the fact that she had even spoken. No doubt she was cursing the rum for making words between them easier.  
  
Jack looked at her curiously. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, embarrassment clearly twisting her stomach up.  
  
"Not a bad idea," he began with a smile, "I am rather dashing aren't I?" His hand swayed upwards and he stroked his chin as if in great thought.  
  
She turned and laughed, the embarrassment gone. He jerked his head back in feigned hurt as she laughed at what he thought to be a true statement.  
  
"In stories, yes. Though I'm not too sure about real life," she said, raising an eyebrow speculatively. Her brown orbs swept over his body and she gave a harsh cringe as she took in his dirty shirt and sand-crusted chest. He looked down quickly, following her eye's direction, and sighed in satisfaction at the rugged sight.  
  
Real pirates don't mind gettin' dirty, he thought with a smirk.  
  
"And little Will? Is he dashing?"  
  
She leaned in again and Jack found himself leaning in, also. The distance between them was lessening with each passing quip.  
  
"Now, he's not a pirate is he?" She whispered softly.  
  
"Nooo," Jack slurred, "no, he's not. Pit of a pansy if you ask me."  
  
She lurched back at his offense to her supposed beloved. However, were Will there at the moment he would be greatly hurt to see the soft humor lighten her eyes and tug at her lips, causing a defeated smile.  
  
"Well, no, he's just learning. That's all," Elizabeth weakly defended.  
  
"Learning to be a pansssssy," Jack slurred again, eyeing the rum bottle that was just out of his reach.  
  
"Learning to be a pirate, Captain," she corrected.  
  
"Well, I hope he becomes one just so we can have a level-headed whiner on the ship. Keeps the rest of us amused," he retorted with a snort. Elizabeth laughed loudly and in doing so her head titled forward and she had to steady herself with her arm, incidentally moving closer to Jack's own hand and tilted head. Jack felt her fingers brush gently against his as she thrust them into the sand.  
  
"I think I am beginning to fancy real pirates after all. Just like in the stories," she replied, her lips so close that Jack could mark each syllable clearly by the clicking of her tongue and gentle smacking of her lips.  
  
"Just in stories, love?" he asked, his heart beating fast.  
  
She thought carefully for a second, letting her eyes wander deeply into his. Her eyes were so beautiful- so big and watery, like the ocean itself, only with a brown the earth could match. She was biting her lip again.  
  
"I suppose not all stories are fantasy," she whispered, letting her breath tickle Jack's lips.  
  
And in an instance his lips found hers. She pulled back in surprise at first, then dove back into the kiss with an unpaced intensity. Jack matched her hunger and brought his hands up to her smooth cheek and neck. He felt her arms wrap around his chest and shoulder, pulling him closer to her. Their tongues danced wildly and Jack dared to open his eyes for a brief moment. He melted as he saw her softly closed eyes and flushing cheeks.  
  
Feeling out of breath, they both broke from the kiss moments later. Jack was surprised to find his breathing heavy and heart pounding wildly. For once, he did not have control over everything and he relished in the idea of being vulnerable for seconds. He had been with plenty of women throughout his lifetime, though none had ever weakened his sharp defenses to the point of being subordinate in control. Never had he before wanted to kiss a women so genuinely and never did he feel a burn of boyish abashment at the prospect. Not even the weak shot of rum running slowly through his veins could ease the pain of caring for a women in a sincere way.  
  
"Tell me another story, Miss Swann," he asked, breathlessly.  
  
"Is that an order, Captain," she asked, a sly smirk spreading across her face.  
  
"Your first one, as my first mate," he whispered.  
  
"Ay, my Captain," she replied before diving into another passionate kiss.  
  
The midnight sky twinkled above the little island. The moon's washing waves caressed the sea with reflections of nights past and nights to come. The moon was set to rise each starry night, just as the stars were placed in it blanket of black to burn through even the darkest of nights. Sailors at sea always found a star to be their guide on such evenings as these. Just as lovers wished upon them in hopes of that one story-come-true that will lead them to the wildest of adventures.  
  
Governor and governess of the Isle of Rum learned to appreciate those stars that night, as both found their dreams form basis of reality by a fireside.  
  
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TBC with two more chapters ( 


	4. A Change in the Winds

Chapter Four: A Change in the Winds  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.  
  
*Thank you very much for all of your reviews. This is my first posted fanfiction on ff.net and it means a lot to me to be greeted so warmly. Thank you again*  
  
And now, on with the show!  
  
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Jack awoke to the pungent smell of burning embers and sand. The soft ocean breeze wafted the dying fire's smoke towards him and as he opened his eyes wide, they burned and watered. The softening night sky was being diffused into an array of pale pinks and oranges. The sun's eager flames seared through the darkness and burst from the ocean's horizon as the stars struggled to burn brighter and overcome the foe of daytime, only to fall back weakly to the dominant rising.  
  
The air was cool and his skin prickled with goosebumps as the dying embers gave little heat. However, he felt a great warmth from his nude right shoulder. Almost surprised, he looked down to see a head of tousled brown hair resting heavily on his shoulder. He eyed the sight carefully and uneasily until he clearly remembered what had led them to that position.  
  
And I thought it was only in Tortuga that a man would never feel unwanted, he thought on impulse and almost jerked back as those words echoed in his head. The famous Captain Jack Sparrow fancying a night's impulse as more than an impulse, as more than a fulfillment?  
  
He shuddered at the thought. His heart raced and his mind whirred with panicked thoughts.  
  
This can't be happening, he thought harshly, I've never dabbled in these waters!  
  
The images of the night flooded him at once. Her impressive drinking of the hard rum. Her flushed cheeks that only illuminated her unruly emotions. Her wry grin as she retold the story of his escape ( a rather good one, he must admit). Her hand brushing against his. Her brown hair turned golden by the firelight. Her tender lips grazing his as first, almost tentatively. The not so tentative waltz of tongue and lip that proceeded. Her soft skin. The taste of her skin, salty and clean. How she had whispered his name in almost a sing-song way.  
  
Jack shuddered and quickly changed train of thought before he lost himself again in the blossoming beauty that now was Elizabeth Swann.  
  
His attention was caught by the lazy sun that struggled to overcome the horizon. The soft sound of waves lulled him to a daydream state and he felt a flutter of bliss as he took in the moment.  
  
Here I am, he thought with a nostalgic air. Captain Jack Sparrow lying on a Caribbean beach, looking at the sunrise, listening to the waves and feeling utterly captivated by the soft movements of the woman next t'me. Your bloody losing it, ol' Jack. Remember the days when a woman's kiss was just a fulfillment? Remember the days when the ocean just the background noise with grunts, orders, and cheering pirates? Bloody losing it, savvy?  
  
It had been a long time since Jack had ever stopped to breath. He called the sea his home, of course. He would never feel complete without it. However, it had become such a normal everyday setting that he had forgotten the rare sense of serenity that washed over a first-time sailor as the waves did the sand.  
  
When was the last time I breathed just to breath, he asked himself. He took in a long breath of air until his lungs hurt with the capacity overload and then, after holding the air for a few seconds, he let it sail out of his partly opened lips. His body deflated and he suddenly became more aware of the sand scratching his unclothed back. The tranquil reflection of air and sea, had however, awakened his first mate and she yawned and groaned as she rolled off his shoulder and hit the beach unceremoniously. She burst up with a start, clearly forgetting why she was not nestled in a white down comforter and rather, dry, shifting sand.  
  
Jack propped his head up with his arms and watched as she took in all the pieces of why, who, where, and when that concerned her. She turned to him, after a few awakening gasps and surprises and her long eyelashes batted the sleep from her eyes.  
  
"Captain Sparrow," she said, groggily.  
  
"The only," he replied with a wicked grin.  
  
"I dare say we had a long night," she mused with those flushing cheeks again as she worked with her clothing claspings. Jack looked suddenly to his left and saw his shirt lying in a damp bunch, the sea just beginning to muster the energy to send it's waves further up the beach.  
  
"I dare say we did, love," he agreed, sitting up. He took hold of his hair and began to shake furiously. A shower of sand fell from the tangle black and scarf. Buttoning his pants, he crawled toward his shirt. Taking it in his hand, he took a quick smell of it and was pleased to smell the ocean and not himself. Shaking the sand from the white folds, he flung it on.  
  
Small feet appeared in his downward vision and he glanced up quickly, though cursed as he did, for the sun slashed at his unshaded eyes. He shaded his vision, now able to see past Elizabeth's kneecaps and dress's end. However, he wished he had not done that either. He felt an odd turn of stomach as he took in the look of utter distress and worry that creased her brow and forced the edges of her lips downward.  
  
"What's the matter, love," he asked cautiously, "missing the rum already?" Not even his toothy grin and quick turn of head could send a flicker of amusement over her features.  
  
"Do you think what we did was wrong, Jack," Elizabeth asked in a toneless voice.  
  
Why is it that they keep forgettin' I'm a pirate, he though with a frustrated grunt. First Will almost binding him to a fair fight now Elizabeth asking if a roll in the sand was a sin.  
  
Of course, as he blinked up at Elizabeth's pained eyes, he found the thousands of witty responses and quips fade from his mind.  
  
"Well, depends how much you think dear William a pansy," he muttered with a click of his tongue, stretching his hand up to her. She took a weak hold of it and pulled him up. Now, Jack stared slightly down at the viciously contemplating woman and waited for her answer.  
  
Talk about going soft, he bitterly thought. Talking of matters of the heart and eagerly awaiting a woman's answer to a question about one- a question that he, himself, brought up! Best be gettin' off this bloody island, he thought with a gulp.  
  
"I just don't know anymore," Elizabeth finally cried to herself and turned away from Jack. She began to pace around the dying fire. Jack shrugged and threw a couple of palm branches onto the weakened embers. They burst up again as the gingerly licked at the new victims.  
  
"You think about that for a bit, then ay? And I'll go romp aroun' and try to call some sea turtles to the shore so we can start figuring out how to get off this here Isle O' Rum. Savvy?" He watched as she spun around and smiled at him. The soft tip of lips brought her cheeks up and Jack raised an eyebrow as he was hit with how beautiful she was again.  
  
"Thank you, Jack," she said, and began to poke a stick into the fire.  
  
"'Right then," he said, beginning to walk off the beach and into the sparse forest of palm. "Be sure to yell if you see any of the turtles. They're already late!" he called back to her, not turning his head. He snuck a soft smile as her soft laughter bubbled up from the fireside and diffused into the crashing waves.  
  
Jack wandered aimlessly through the palm forest and came out on the other side of the island, facing more beach and more water. He staggered along the beach, kicking up as much sand as he could. His feet soon burned from the harsh coals of sand and he fled to the lapping waves. Water sprayed up and cooled his body.  
  
However, as much as Jack tired to concentrate on thinking of a way out, as much as he pushed himself to listen to the symphonic rhythm of the seashore his thoughts kept fleeing his buzzing mind. Elizabeth.  
  
"What a mess you are, Captain Jack Sparrow," he cried aloud to himself, kicking even more water up. A spray of water hit his face and he automatically parted his lips and tasted the salt. Bitter, yet home.  
  
And what was home? Was home the ever-moving ocean? Yes, of course. Yet, home was such a lonely place. He had his crew, of course. They were his brothers, his partners in crime and true friends (despite whatever that blasted code!). Though even brothers weren't worth as much as someone else to share that home with.  
  
AnnaMaria had been the closest womanly "friend" he had ever had. Bloody screwed that up, now didn't I, he scolded himself. He had met Anna after a brief visit to Tortuga. She was gorgeous, no doubt. Gorgeous and dangerous- the makings of a true pirate. Though Jack had to be Jack. By borrowing her ship, unbeknownst to her of course, he had severed all ties between them. Anna had only come to get another ship, just as Jack had done a year ago. A double-edged blade, no doubt.  
  
And what now?  
  
"No ship, no way out, no crew," he paused mid-rant, "and no woman."  
  
Elizabeth was already attached to Will. That much was obvious. The horror on her face as she struggled with tears when they first walked onto the beach together blossomed in his mind. Or the side-long glance she had shared with Will as she walked the plank. Tears fell that time.  
  
Even after last night, Jack knew it was impossible for her to want anything but a sea-turtle charter off the island and back into the arms of her lover. She had been slightly intoxicated, too boot. Not even rum could replace the gash she had received. That being her broken heart.  
  
"Did I mention she's a governor's daughter," he called out to the sea. "Give ol' daddy a heart-attack if he were to know," he laughed bitterly.  
  
"Probably would think the blacksmith a worthy suitor after flirtations with a pirate," he chuckled.  
  
If, indeed, Will was still alive (though highly doubtful with that boy's record) Jack would not mind the least bit to steal his woman away from him. After his poor betrayal of Jack back in the caves, he deserved to lose a woman to him! He absent-mindedly rubbed his forehead where the board had met skull.  
  
"Will's already dead," Jack murmured to himself. The words fled from his mouth and were caught on a sudden burst of wind, drifting lazily away from him.  
  
"Wait," he whispered to himself. He stood straight and tall, his dark eyes darting all around him. He swaggered around and felt a cool north eastern breeze hit his face.  
  
East. An eastern wind.  
  
"The Pearl was hurt pretty bad after that poor-excuse for a battle," he mused aloud. "Barbossa's heading west." He paused, his eyes now fixed upon the ocean. As he thought, he did not blink. Nor, did he breath.  
  
"Barbossa's making slow time, if any time at all," he cried suddenly, throwing his arms up. A strong wave hit his unprepared body and he fell back into the receding waters and sand. He felt nothing besides two emotions.  
  
Hope. As the eastern wind rippled the swirling waters around him, he felt elated with the sudden gust of hope that flooded his veins and coursed through his damp body.  
  
The other emotion stung him in the place where that hope was pumped from- his heart. It was pain. Pure and utter pain. He knew what he had to do. His breathing became more ragged and he sniffed the air, in attempt to balance his sacrifice's burden. He stood up and began to walk towards the palms again.  
  
"I must say goodbye to my beloved," he soberly said to the soft wind. "I'll miss her like hell, but it's the only way! No, there must be another. I cannot live without her touch! No, Jack! Get a grip of yourself. You've got to," he choked out, "you've got to say goodbye to your beloved, your friend, your foe, your lover through all time."  
  
".the rum."  
  
--- More to come very soon! Thanks for your patience. 


	5. Author's Note

Author's Note:  
  
Thank you everyone for your reviews. I am sorry that the system is messing up the text of chapter four. I have no idea how those symbols are taking place of the quotation marks and apostrophes, but I was assured that this sometimes happens after massive updates to ff.net. Hopefully, it will become more readable soon.  
  
Thank you for your patience, and more to come soon!  
  
JadedSky 


	6. A Pirate's Life For Me

The eastern wind was now blowing strongly. It whipped around the unguarded palm fingers, kissing the knuckle of the palms and forcing the fingers to dance a waltz of movement and silence. The verdant leaves swayed uneasily in the dance; the slavery to the eastern breeze shackled them to the lonely hypnosis of the afternoon sun.  
  
A small gust fluttered up from the sands and brushed up upon Jack Sparrow's cheeks, bringing a small pinch of sand up with it.  
  
He watched in silence, simply looking at the cache with forlorn eyes, watered with dryness and sacrifice. It had to be done. The rum would surely ignite a treacherous flame that would blaze into the sky for hours. Jack was not stupid. He knew the worth of his first mate. The entire Royal Navy would be grazing the blue waters, searching behind each wave for a chance at playing the hero.  
  
Kill the pirate, save the damsel, Jack thought with a mournful air. He scrunched his nose up, his brow being creased with the thin lines of sun- kissed gold.  
  
Commodore Norington would no doubt be missing his own little Swann. His rigid heart that uphold the morals of civilized society could only be breached by the small, penetrating light that was Elizabeth. Though, not even that could melt the ice contained in his cold, blue eyes.  
  
He'd only marry her for status. offspring. and society, Jack mused solemnly. He was a man of principle, a man of upbringing. That much was obvious by one look. From speaking with the man (more like being threatened, he countered himself) much more was to be discovered. His duty ruled his world and Elizabeth was to be his queen. Atop the proud throne of a Commodore label he would reign the small world of his and slowly consume the fire in Elizabeth's heart.  
  
All this, Jack considered with a lighter humor, could be seen in one unlikely meeting with a such a scoundrel Norrington had been sworn to do battle against.  
  
"Why curse her in such a way," Jack said, shaking the two bottles of rum he held in each hand, listening with a tuned ear to the swishing sound of it's nectar.  
  
Because, he answered himself sadly- because death on this island would be a far greater curse.  
  
"The ultimate," he pointed out to himself.  
  
How could he condemn such a woman to a miserable few days on an island before hunger and thirst both drove them mad? How could he watch her drink rum as if it was the only escape, the only hope in her now narrowing life? How could he do anything but try, through his own life and death, to protect that burning flame of Elizabeth's beauty; her silken skin, her golden hair; her pouting lips; of her wit and strength?  
  
So, Captain Jack Sparrow uncorked the bottles and let his own life pour out with the rum. He watched with downcast eyes as the liquid fell upon the mountain of palm branches.  
  
"And what will become of Captain Jack Sparrow," he asked himself, the rum still flowing from the upturned bottles. "Death, likely. Didn't make the best impression with the blessed Commodore during the first round. Likely he didn't forget that," he mused with a click of his tongue.  
  
If the sacrifice of rum did work to his plan and ships had been signaled, despite all witty response, he would be condemned. Of course he would escape, to be sure. Or die trying. Either way, he promised himself he would not die at the hand's of such a spiritless creature. He'd rather taste Barbossa's sword than swing from the rope of a high-class entertainment venue.  
  
With that, he took one of the spar pistols from the cache and without looking, held the gun to the pile of gunpowder he had arranged in the middle of the fire. He cocked the gun with his shaking thumb and stopped abruptly as a voice rang loud from the clearing.  
  
"Jack! What in hell's fire are you doing," Elizabeth cried. She ran to Jack and pulled his arm, the pistol being spun away and dropping ungracefully into the sand. His eyes were as wide as they could get as he turned to her, his mouth slightly agape.  
  
"I did some thinking," he responded in an uncharacteristically monotone voice.  
  
"Well, I'm sorry it hurt so much, but what is all of this," she joked, her upper lip curling about to pull her lips into a soft smile. He winced at her joviality and sniffed at the air.  
  
"Look, you're Elizabeth Swann- the daughter of Governor Swann and future wife of a CommoBORE. I mean, 'dore," he said, in almost a vicious tone. Elizabeth's face contorted to confusion and she took a tentative step backward.  
"I am not marrying him," she said defiantly, her eyes glinting with warning. Jack understood that look and chose his words carefully.  
  
"Anywho, he does intend for you to be his lawfully wedded wife," he said, picking up the pistol and aiming it at the gunpowder again, "that much is true. What I'm saying Miss Swann, is that I doubt that daddy of yours would let you go so easily. They've probably got the entire Royal Navy patrolling these waters," he said.  
  
She looked hurt at his sudden formality. Her brown eyes became watered with her confusion and she did not say a word.  
  
"We'll signal them," Jack continued, "signal them with smoke. There's only one way to get smoke, right, love? Fire. And only one way to create such a fire. Rum."  
  
"And what if they don't see the signal, Jack? What if we are simply wasting all of our provisions for a fool's dream at escape?"  
  
"Then, we'll die the quicker, love," he responded, looking away at the beach and rolling surf. He sighed and the air he had once thought to taste sweet and refreshing burned his lungs and choked his breathing. "Either way, I'm still dead."  
  
Elizabeth's head jerked up at his words and her mouth opened wide as she finally understood. Norrington would kill Jack. He was an outlaw, a fugitive, a man who had wounded his honor once already.  
  
"Norrington," she whispered under her breath.  
  
"I won't die by Norrington, that much I promise you," Jack said fiercely, a rush of fear and hate creeping up into his cheeks.  
  
"You won't," Elizabeth responded in a weak voice. "You can't."  
  
"Like you said, love- sit on a beach for days drinking rum until we both slowly die away or take the risk of lighting the signal, getting picked up by the fiancée, me not getting killed, and hold onto that horizon of hope that we can save lover Will and take the Pearl?"  
  
Elizabeth's eyes searched for an answer in Jack's eyes. Their eyes locked in a hard stare and the grief of his words melted into her brown orbs and radiated through his.  
  
"I had done some thinking, too," she said, finally breaking the silence between the two.  
  
"Hope it didn't leave a mark," Jack replied, a crooked smile brightening his face.  
  
"I think it has though," Elizabeth agreed, taking a step closer to Jack. It was his turn to look lost. "I want to save Will. I can save him," she said, earnestly, "though I can't save all of him."  
  
She stared fiercely at him, her lips trembling and her voice shaking with emotion. Jack felt a sudden longing to still those trembling lips but he focused on the cool metal of the pistol in his right hand.  
  
"I cannot save what I don't feel anymore," Elizabeth concluded, pure honesty tingeing her voice. "My heart is not with Will and his no longer with mine."  
  
Jack felt his knees go weak and it took every ounce of self-control not to show it. He could feel his own outstretched hand shaking with a sudden emotional wave that washed over his body. The famous Captain Jack Sparrow. he thought, but faded away.  
"I've become a heroine in a story, Jack," she whispered now, her eyes rising up to meet his. She took a step forward and rested a hand on his chest. He inwardly winced as her touch sent stabs of fire throughout his body. He held her gaze.  
  
"And I've found my own scoundrel to rid me of that," she said, coming up on her toes. Her lips brushed against his temptingly. His left hand quickly shot out and wrapped around her neck, bringing her closer. Their lips crashed against each others. They tasted the salt of each other's lips hungrily and their two mouths melded into one. He could feel her hand snake around his waist and her tiny body fit perfectly next to his.  
  
Without breaking kiss, Jack's finger pulled the trigger of his outstretched gun. In a burst of flame and rum, the gunpowder was lit and the fire exploded upwards. They were far away enough not to be interrupted, but could still feel the splendid heat of the roaring, dancing flames of crimson and aureate.  
  
Soon, their lips broke apart and Jack stole a look at the roaring fire. The smoke was already billowing up into the sky. Small tendrils of ebony and ash floated into the eastern wind. Just as the palm leaves were shackled to the dance of earth and sky, so were the smoky fingers pushed upwards, soaring to the clouds.  
  
Sure the Commodore would come, and sure he would threaten Jack, abuse Jack, and most likely promise to hang Jack. With the burning sensation of Elizabeth's lips still fresh on his, he shrugged his shoulders at the thought. He would make it, he would figure a way out. He was Captain Jack Sparrow and no death could be worse than not living for the story-telling of Elizabeth Swann.  
  
"A pirate's life for me," he whispered, smiling broadly. He threw the gun away and took Elizabeth in both arms, and resumed the story.  
  
The Commodore through a scope first spied a distant twisting of smoke coming from a small, lonely island in the middle of nowhere. He squinted his eyes and could only see the dazzling water rimming the secluded island, almost swallowing it in secrecy.  
  
Just as the Governor and Governess liked it.  
  
THE END  
  
Well, there you have it. The story of what really should have happened on the Isle o' Rum. Thank you very much to everyone, this number of reviews has certainly surpassed anything I could have imagined. Who knows, maybe I might write a Part Two! After all, how's dear Will going to react to this twist in the story? hehe.  
  
Thank you again!  
  
JadedSky 


	7. Author's Note

Hi again!  
  
Due to the great response I got with this little ficlet, a part two is in the works at the moment. I am planning it to start directly after this one, so keep your eyes out for a 'Call Me Captain' Part Deux, where our new couple plan to rescue the odd-man out, Will. Poor guy. anyways, thank you!  
  
JadedSky 


	8. Part Two Up!

PART TWO!  
  
Part two is now up under the same title- Call Me Captain. I am re-posting the first part and the second part will begin with the first chapter, easily labeled in your chapter links for easy access if you have already read the first part. Thank you very much and hope to see you over there!  
  
JadedSky 


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